Chapter 66: Escape (III)

Black buildings collapsed one after another, their dark, tangled mess splitting into countless thin threads, scattering in all directions in panic.

The panicked screams of the crowd poured through the speakers, enveloping the audience from every direction, as if they were right there in the scene.

"This is a true story."

The ruins of the houses and the fleeing figures dissolved into a pale whiteness.

Finally, on the screen, it condensed into this brief, cold line of text.

"A documentary-style animated film?"

"Isn't that interesting?"

Xida chewed popcorn, mumbling unclearly, her cheeks puffed out like a cute hamster.

Yahweh nodded gently; occasionally entertaining himself in human ways was a novel experience.

Xida raised an eyebrow, sipped her warm milk tea, and turned her attention back to the movie.

Yahweh placed the large cup of popcorn on the empty couple's seat beside him, letting the girl comfortably lean against his chest, mimicking her posture as he fixed his gaze on the screen.

The male lead appeared.

He limped along, leaning against the wall in a dark alley, his body covered in wounds.

A massive explosion blew his home into the sky, buying him a little time.

The last pill had just been swallowed.

His time to stay conscious was running out.

Though he was already mad enough.

Normal people don't bury tons of high explosives beneath the floor of their own homes.

Too bad he didn't manage to blow up those few dogs along with it.

The burly leader seemed clever—he sensed something wrong immediately and pulled his teammates back right away.

A clever man is better; only then does he deserve to take his life.

If he died senselessly at the hands of a brute, Nia and Lao Ruifan would laugh at him later.

Dila sighed at the inverted sea hanging above his head, exhaling a faint wisp of white mist, instantly riddled and erased by merciless raindrops.

"This male lead's fate is pretty tragic," Xida sniffed, speaking gloomily.

"A refugee whose country and home were destroyed, fleeing endlessly to the ends of the earth," Yahweh said, gently stroking Xida's head.

At the quarter mark of the film, a somber tone swept over them.

"But the ending is happy, isn't it?" he added.

"The opening male lead was truly happy," Xida said, pressing her head deeper into her lover's warm embrace.

A classic reverse chronology: the present-day male lead recounts his past.

Yahweh disliked this style; he instinctively hated stories with a predetermined ending.

Even if the ending was joyful for all.

"Don't you like it?" Xida pressed against her boyfriend's body; even with her back to him, she sensed his shifting emotions.

"I hate stories with a fixed ending," Yahweh replied honestly.

"Hmm…" Xida murmured softly, saying nothing, but pressed even closer.

"If the ending is already decided, why struggle so hard?" The wind and rain echoed her whisper, roaring together in a deafening, world-swallowing clamor.

"That's what a human is—even if he's insane, he's still human," Beros murmured, carefully bandaging the horrific, full-body wounds of the collapsed Bit.

At the moment of the explosion, all four activated their newly installed Sandevistan cybernetics.

Even though they could surpass time in an instant, they couldn't fully resist the destruction from the blast.

Beros and Beros, experienced, dodged the flying debris of the ruined buildings in time.

The newcomer Melissa hadn't yet adjusted to this blinding speed; her mind hadn't issued the command to evade.

It was Bit who, with his relatively small frame, took all the flying shards for her.

The cost: several through-and-through blood holes and countless smaller wounds—horrifying to behold.

Fortunately, medical supplies were ready; Bit was not in immediate danger.

"Is he okay?" Melissa whispered, filled with guilt.

"Just a rotten life—he won't die," Beros replied softly, finishing Bit's bandaging.

"Where's the Captain?"

"Gone to kill."

Beros cast one final glance at the unconscious Bit, then turned to the window, gazing at the storm outside—when would it ever stop? —murmuring softly.

Melissa opened her mouth, then closed it again, silent.

Finally, she lowered her head, raised her ears, and quietly listened for the faint thunder hidden in the wind and rain.

"Why are you alone? Where are your other teammates?"

Dila leaned against the wall, shouting at the cold figure standing in the shadows ahead.

"I was wrong. To kill you, I alone am enough," Beros spoke slowly, each word deliberate; at that moment, a thick bolt of lightning split the sky, followed by a roar of thunder.

"Ha." Dila chuckled softly, spreading his arms wide, as if surrendering.

He stood still, waiting for Beros to approach step by step.

"Tap… tap… tap…"

Beros walked slowly, each footprint sinking deep into the ground, as if carrying the weight of ten thousand tons.

Dila curled his lips.

His outstretched hands burst open with flesh, instantly transforming into the scythes of death.

He swung them crosswise toward Beros's neck—only to be stunned as the burly man's figure dissolved into lingering afterimages, vanishing into thin air, evading this deadly ambush.

"Sandevistan? They actually gave this to a dog like you." Dila recognized the truth behind Beros's disappearance.

Compared to the traditional, widely used Kerenzikov, Sandevistan performs better and is far more dangerous and lethal.

It is a weapon of death, for others and for oneself.

Beros pressed the large-caliber revolver in his hand against Dila's temple and pulled the trigger hard.

A tremendous boom rang out—but the lethal bullet missed.

Dila's soft laugh came from beside Beros.

He recognized Sandevistan not because he was well-traveled or experienced.

Simply because he himself had installed this lethal cybernetic implant.

A gift left to Dila by the man from the Zhang Corporation just days ago.

"Name?"

"Beros."

The tall and short men's silhouettes vanished together into the endless rain.

High-speed bodies crisscrossed in the confined space, carving out a dry patch amid the downpour.

Raindrops shattering and evaporating the instant they neared this domain.

Yet their words were spoken slowly, each syllable deliberate, emerging from their mouths one at a time.

"I didn't expect this, Dila," Beros said, his tone growing calm, all his raging fury buried beneath the fleeting sparks and glints of blades.

"Beros, interested in a deal?" Dila whispered, his voice effortlessly piercing through the clamor of Mantis Blades clashing.

"Desperate last stand?"

"A gift, Beros—the final gift from a dying man."

"A gift?" Beros laughed softly, and on the seven hundred and ninety-third clash of blades, he severed Dila's worn Mantis Blade clean.

"A gift," Dila emphasized once more, silently staring into Beros's lowered eyes.

The torrential rain rushed to swallow this dry sanctuary, cold rain falling upon Beros's head.

As if trying to cool his boiling heart and killing intent.

"Go on."